


let me love who i want

by arekiras



Series: Winter Fics [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Christmas Party, Fluff, Kissing in the Snow, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekiras/pseuds/arekiras
Summary: Alec hums noncommittally, preoccupied with kissing Magnus again, and then with thoughts of the loft and the quiet evening he wishes they were having.





	let me love who i want

Alec has no idea how they got the Christmas tree inside. It’s a thirteen foot tall monster, and real, filling the Institute ballroom with the scent of fresh pine and sap. The ballroom is only used to host formal occasions, and today it’s decorated with gold satin streamers hanging from the domed ceiling. Crystal snowflakes hang from thin wires and the banquet table has a burgundy runner. The tree itself is covered in ornaments engraved with runes, the angel on top a somewhat sinister figurine of Raziel, holding the three Mortal Instruments in his hands and gazing down at the Shadowhunters with fierce eyes. 

“That’s not what he looks like,” Clary points out, standing just behind Jace at Alec’s right. 

“I’ll be sure to file a complaint with the decorator,” Alec says dryly, leaving his brother and Clary to greet the incoming guests at the door. Shadowhunters from all over the state are set to arrive, but the flood has slowed to a small trickle. Most of the Shadowhunters are already inside being entertained by the food and company. 

He spots his sister approaching him and grins. Isabelle looks stunning in a long dark blue silk gown, hair loose around her shoulders. Every time Alec sees her his chest swells with warmth. She’s flourishing as the Institute’s new Weapon’s Master, and no longer has that frantic look in her eyes that she had a few months ago. 

“You look great,” she says, looping her arm through his. The Christmas party is a formal affair and Alec’s wearing a forest green blazer over a white shirt and black pants, his tie such a dark red it looks black unless under direct light. “I like Magnus’ influence on you.” 

Alec agrees. Magnus has been good for him, in every sense. But lately he’s felt comfortable enough to stray away from his usual black ensembles. Something about the lightness of it all, of losing the sense of unease in his own skin, has made an impression on his wardrobe. 

“The party seems to be going well,” Alec says. 

“Of course it is. I’m here. And you’re doing admirably. You haven’t gazed longingly at Magnus in at least three minutes,” Isabelle nudges Alec and he scowls at her. But his eyes go across the room to where he knows Magnus is standing, unbidden. He’s engaged in a conversation with Maryse, which is not as worrying to Alec as it once would have been. Alec had invited Magnus, fully prepared for him to not want to attend, but he’s glad that it wasn’t the case. 

He’s wearing a light gray suit that fits snug across his shoulders and back, the shirt underneath black. The jacket is patterned with tiny, almost imperceptible, snowflakes, giving it flecks of texture. Alec wants to go over, but he knows there will be time for that later. Even if this party is meant to be a social occasion, the time for politics is never really over. There’s a Clave representative Isabelle is leading him to speak with, anyway. 

Almost an hour later, Alec manages to duck out of a conversation regarding adamas being rendered into bullets for automatic weaponry, leaving Isabelle to put in her own expertise. He finds himself a small, almost secluded spot behind the Christmas tree, occupied only by a lonely table covered in discarded champagne glasses, and breathes. 

He unbuttons his jacket, tilting his head back and centering himself, using the sharp scent of pine and the prickly branches to separate himself from the buzz of conversation. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m having the time of my life,” Magnus almost surprises him, but Alec sensed his proximity before he spoke. 

Alec opens his eyes, blinking at Magnus owlishly before saying, “Just wait until we host the New Year’s celebration again. That’s a real party.” 

Magnus steps closer, entering Alec’s small bubble of solitude. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says, touching his cheek. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine. Bored out of my mind. Ready to go home. What about you?” Alec takes Magnus’ hand from his face, holding it instead, linking their fingers. 

Magnus sighs, “How long does this party last, again?” Alec laughs softly, leaning his forehead against Magnus’ and closing his eyes. “I don’t think we can hide back here all night, Alexander.” 

“It’s not hiding if no one is  _ looking _ for us,” Alec points out, still not moving. 

Magnus presses a small kiss to Alec’s lips. “We  _ are _ only the Head of the New York Institute and the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Who would possibly miss us?” 

Alec hums noncommittally, preoccupied with kissing Magnus again, and then with thoughts of the loft and the quiet evening he wishes they were having. 

Magnus says his name, and Alec rolls his eyes. “I say we make a break for it,” he declares, nodding behind Magnus. A few feet to their left is a side entrance to the ballroom. Magnus looks, and grins. 

“Are you suggesting that we sneak out?” 

“Are you suggesting that we stick around?” Alec retorts, and delights in Magnus’ laugh in response. 

“Come on,” Magnus tugs on their joined hands and they make their careful way toward the door, walking with purpose but also not too quickly. Alec opens the door and holds it for Magnus, giggling a little to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. The hall outside of the ballroom is deserted, the Institute running on a skeleton crew because of the party. They exit the Institute with ease. Once outside, Alec texts Jace and Isabelle to cover for him and then turns his phone off, pulling Magnus in by his lapels and kissing him hard, a gentle flurry of snow coating them. 


End file.
